Sir Gawain and His Marriage to Lady Ragnell

This is one of the tales I remember hearing most frequently when we first started listening to storytellers, and it is one that I have a soft spot for.

The core of the tale is follows:

King Arthur is out hunting and gets separated from his party; he meets a knight who would challenge him, say Gawain has taken his lands from him. Arthur must give way, promising to return by the next New Year’s Day with the answer to the question “What is it that a woman desire’s the most?” else he will cut off his head. Arthur returns to court unhappily, sets out with Gawain for anwsers, but none of them seem satisfactory. On the way to meet the Lord, Arthur meets a hideous hag. She says she has the answer, but the price is that she weds Gawain. Arthur checks with Gawain, ho says he will do what he must for his King. She gives the answer to Arthur and he gives it to the Lord; and the Lord is angry - his sister must have told Arthur.

Back at court, the hag arrives, eats noisily, and goes off with Gawain. He is astonished to see she is beautiful; she says she is under an enchantment, and will he have her foul by day and fair by night, or v.v. He flounders, says it is her choice. She is released from the curse and the next morning the court is surprised to see Gawain with the fair maiden.

In The Legend of Sir Gawain; studies upon its original scope and significance, 1897, p48, Jessie L. Weston summarises an 1839 version of the original metrical romance by Frederic Madden in the following terms:

… In the fragmentary poem of the The Marriage of Sir Gawayne [Sir Gawayne, Madden, p. 288.] we find the hero, in order to rescue King Arthur from the snares of a powerful enchanter, chivalrously wedding the magician’s sister, a lady of unexampled hideousness. On the marriage night she reveals herself as beautiful as she was previously repulsive, and gives her husband the choice whether he will have her beautiful by night, and hideous by day, or vice versa. Gawain, with that courtesy for which he was famous, leaves the decision to the lady; whereupon she tells him she has been laid under a spell to preserve this repulsive form till she finds a knight courteous enough ‘to give her her will.’ The spell is now broken, and she will be beautiful alike by night and by day.

A note in Percy’s 1794 edition of Reliques describes the state of fragmentation in the original manuscript.

Note in Percy, Reliques, 1794

https://archive.org/details/bim_eighteenth-century_reliques-of-ancient-engl_1794_3/page/350/mode/2up

Reliques of ancient English poetry. Consisting of old heroic ballads, songs, and other pieces of our earlier poets, together with some few of later date. 1794: Vol 3 Publication date 1794

p350

with the poem p350-8

XIX.

THE ANCIENT FRAGMENT OF THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE.

The Second Poem in this Volume, intitled The MArriage of Sir Gawayne, having been offered to the Reader with large conjectural Supplements and Corrections, the old Fragment itself is here literally and exactiy printed from the Editor’s folio MS. with all its defects, inaccuracies, and errata; that ſuch auſtere Antiquaries, as complain that the ancient copies have not been always rigidly adhered to, may ſee how unfit for publication many of the pieces would have been if all the blunders, corruptions, and nonſenſe of illiterate Reciters and Tranſcribers had been ſuperſtitiouſly retained, without ſome attempt to correct and emend them.

This Ballad had moſt unfortunately ſuffered by having half of every leaf in this Part of the MS. torn away; and, as about Nine Stanzas’ generally occur in the half page now remaining, it is concluded, that the other half contained nearly the ſame number of Stanzas.

Structurally, the tale poses a riddle — Sir Gromer Somer Joure’s challenge to Arthur — and then introduces several dilemmas (Arthur’s unwillingness to speak for Sir Gawain in committing him to marriage, Dame Ragnell’s question to Gawain), Dame Ragnell’s answer to the riddle — letting the other person decide — is also the answer that resolves the dilemmas.

Madden’s version is as follows:

The Weddynge of Sir Gawene and Dame Ragnelle, Madden, 1839

Frederic Madden Syr Gawayne; a collection of ancient romance-poems, by Scotish and English authors, relating to that celebrated knight of the Round Table, with an introduction, notes, and a glossary., 1839

p. lxvii

The Weddynge of S. Gawene and Dame Ragnelle. fol. 128°.

Printed in the present volume, Appendix, No. VIII. This is the identical poem referred to erroneously by Warton as existing in one of the Tanner MSS. (See Notes; p. 358.) For its discovery, (after the greater part of the sheets of this work was printed off,) I am indebted to the Rev. Henry O. Coxe, Assistant Librarian of the Bodleian Library, who most kindly and promptly undertook a transcript, which was subsequently compared by myself with the Manuscript. It is, unquestionably, the original of the mutilated poem in the Percy folio, and is sufficiently curious to render its insertion in the Appendix an object of interest, although, had I been earlier aware of its existence, some change would probably have been made in the arrangement. The title in the MS. is added by a later hand, and the poem itself is very carelessly written, so that several lines appear occasionally omitted. An entire page, containing — lines, is, unfortunately, wanting.

pp. 298-298yy

No. VIII.

The weddynge of S Gawen & Dame Ragnell.

[MS. Rawlinson, C.86, fol. 128. b ]

Lyhte! [Klythe, MS.] and liftenyth the lif’ of a lord’ riche,
The while that he lyvid’ was none hym liche,
Nether in bowre ne in halle;—
In the tyme of Arthour thys adventure betyd,’—
And’ of the greatt adventure that he hym felf dyd’,
That kyng curteys & royall.
Of alle kynge Arture beryth the flowyr,
And’ of alle knyghtod’ he bare away the hono’,
Where foeu he wentt;
In hys contrey was no thyng butt chyvalry,
And’ knygtite were belovid’ [by] that doughty,
For cowarde were elmore fhent.
Nowe wyll ye lyft a whyle to my talkyng,
I fhall you tell of Arthowre the kyng,
Howe ones hym befett;
On huntyng he was in Inglefwod’,
With alle his bold’ knyghte good’,—
Nowe herkef to my fpell.
The kyng was fett att his treftyll-tree,
With his bowe to fle the wylde ven’e,
And’ hys lorde were fett hym befyde;
As the kyng ftode, then was he ware,
Where a greatt hartt was and’ a fayre,
And’ forth faft dyd’ he glyde,
The hartt was in a braken ferne,
And’ hard’ the houndé, and’ ftode full derne,
Alle that fawe the kyng;—
“Hold’ you ftyll, euy mah,
And’ I woll goo my felf, yf I can,
With craft of ftalkyng.”
The kyng in hys hand’ toke a bowe,
And’ wodmanly he ftowpyd’ lowe,
To ftalk’ vnto that dere;
When that he cam the dere full nere,
The dere lept forth into a brere,
And eu the kyng went nere & nere.
So kyng Arthure went a whyle,
After the dere, I trowe, half a myle,
And’ no man with hym went;
And’ att the laft to the dere he lett flye,
And’ fmote hym fore and’ fewerly,
Suche grace God’ hym fent.
Doun the dere tumblyd’ fo deron,
And’ fell into a greatt brake of feron,
The kyng folowyd’ full faft;
Anon the kyng both ferce & fell
Was with the dere, and’ dyd’ hym fvell [ferve well?],
And’ after the graffe he tafte.
As the kyng was with the dere alone,
Streyght ther ca to hym a quaynt grome,
Armyd’ well and’ fure;
A knyght full ftrong, and’ of greatt myght,
And’ grymly worde to the kyng he fayd’,—
“Well i-mett, kyng Arthor!
Thou haft me done wrong many a yere,
And’ wofully I fhatt quytte the here,
I hold thy lyfe-days nygh done;
Thou haft gevyn my lande, in certayn,
With greatt wrong vnto S. Gawen,
Whate fayest thou, kyng alone?”
“Syr knyght, whate is thy name, with honor?”
“Syr kyng,” he fayd’, “Grom’fom Jour’,
I tell the nowe with ryght.”—
“A, S. Grom’fom’, bethynk’ the well,
To fle me here honor getyft thou no det,
Be-thynk’ the thou artt a knyght.
Yf thou fle me nowe in thys cafe,
Alle knyghte woll refufe the in euy place,
That fhame fhall new the froo;
Lett be thy wyll, and folowe wytt,
And’ that is amys I fhall amend?’ itt,
And’ thou wolt, or that I goo.”
“Nay,” fayd’ S. Grom’fom”, “by heuyn kyng!
So fhalt thou nott fkape, withoute lefyng,
I haue the nowe att avayll;
Yf I fhold’ lett the thus goo with mokery,
Anoder tyme thou wolt me defye,
Of that I fhatt nott fayll.”
Now fayd’ the kyng, “fo God’ me faue,
Save my lyfe, and’ whate thou wolt crave
I fhall now graunt itt the;
Shame thou fhalt haue to fle me in ven’e,
Thou armyd’, and I clothyd’ butt in grene, pde.”
“Alle thys fhatt nott help the, fekyrly,
For I woll nother lond’ ne gold’ truly,
Butt yf thou graunt me att a certayn day,
Suche as I fhatt fett, and’ in thys fame araye.”
“Yes,” fayd’ the kyng, “lo! here my hand’.”
“Ye, butt a-byde, kyng, and’ here me a ftound’.
Fyrft thow fhalt fwere, vpoh my fword’ broun,
To fhewe me att thy comyng whate wemefi love beft’ in feld’ and’ town; And’ thou fhalt mete me here, with outen fend’,
Evyn att this day xij. monethes end’;
And’ thou fhalt fwere vpoh my fwerd’ good’,
That of thy knyghte fhall none com w’ the, by the rood’,
Nowther frende [fremde?] ne freynd’.
And’ yf thou bryng nott anfwere, with oute fayll,
Thyne hed’ thou fhalt lofe for thy travayll,—
Thys fhall nowe be thyne oth.
Whate fayft thou, kyng, lett fe, haue done.””—
“Syr, I graunt to thys, now lett me gone,
Though itt be to me full loth.
I enfure the, as I am true kyng,
To com agayn att thys xij. monethes end’,
And’ bryng the thyne anfwere.”—
“Now go thy way, kyng Arthure,
Thy lyfe is in my hand’ I am full fure,
Of thy forowe thow artt nott ware.
Abyde, kyng Arthure, a lytell whyle,
Loke nott to day thou me begyle,
And’ kepe alle thyng in clofe;
For and’ I wyft, by Mary mylde,
Thou woldyft betray me in the feld’,
Thy lyf? fyrft fholdyft thou lofe.”
“Nay,” fayd’ kyng Arthure, “that may nott be,
Vutrewe knyght fhalt thou new fynde me,
To dye yett were me lever;
Farwett, S. knyght, and’ evyll mett,
I woll com, and’ I be of lyve, att the day fett,
Though I fhold’ fcape neu.”
The kyng his bugle gan blowe,
That hard’ euy knygtit, and’ itt gan knowe,
Vnto hym can they rake;
Ther they fond’ the kyng and’ the dere,
With fembland’ fad’ and’ hevy chere,
That had’ no luft to layk’.
“Go we home nowe to Carlyll,
Thys huntyng lykys me nott well.’”—
So fayd’ kyng Arthure;
Alle the lord¢ knewe by his counten”nce,
That the kyng had’ mett with fume dyfturbaunce.
Vnto Carlyll then the kyng cam,
Butt of his hevyneffe knewe no man,
His hartt was wonder hevy;
In this hevyneffe he dyd’ a-byde,
That many of his knyghte m’velyd’ that tyde.
Tyll att the laft S. Gawen
To the kyng he fayd’ than,
“Syr, me marvaylyth ryght fore,
Whate thyng that thou forowyft fore.”
Then anfweryd’ the kyng as tyght,
“I fhall the tell, gentyll Gawen knyght.
In the foreft as I was this daye,
Ther I mett with a knygiit in his araye,
And’ fteyn worde to me he gan fayn,
And’ chargyd’ me I fhold’ hym nott bewrayne;
His councell muft I kepe therfore,
Or els I am forfwore.”
“Nay, drede you nott, lord’, by Mary flower’,
I am nott that man that wold’ you difhonor,
Nother by euyn ne by moron.”—
“Forsoth I was of huntyng in Inglefwod’ Thowe knoweft well I flewe an hartt, by the rode,
Alle my fylf alon;
Ther mett I with a knyght armyd’ fure,
His name he told’ me was S. Grom’ fom’ Joure,
Therfor I make my mone.
Ther that knyght faft dyd’ me threte,
And’ wold’ haue flay me with greatt heatt,
But I fpak’ fayre agayn;
Wepyns with me ther had’ I none,
Alas! my worfhypp’ therfor is nowe gone.” —
“What therof?” fayd’ Gawen.
“What nedys more, I fhall nott lye,
He wold’ haue flayn me ther with oute m’cy,
And’ that me was full loth;
He made me to fwere that att the xij. monethes end’,
That I fhold’ mete hym ther in the fame kynde,
To that I plyght my trowith.
And’ alfo I fhold’ tell hym att the fame day,
Whate wemen defyren mofte, in good faye,
My lyf’ els fhold’ I lefe [leve, MS.];
This oth I made vnto that knygitt,
And’ that I fhold’ neu tell itt to no wight,
Of thys I myght nott chefe.
And’ alfo I fhold’ com in none oder araye,
But euyn as I was the fame daye;
And’ yf I faylyd’ of myne anfwere,
I wott I fhal be flay rygtt there.
Blame me nott though I be a wofutt man,
Alle thys is my drede and’ fere.”
“Ye, S,, make good’ chere,—
Lett make yor hors redy,
To ryde into ftraunge contrey;
And eu wher as ye mete owther man or woman, in faye,
Ask’ of theym whate thay therto faye.
And’ I fhall alfo ryde a noder waye,
And’ enquere of euy man and’ woman, and’ gett whatt I may,
Of euy mah and’ womans anfwere,
And in a boke I fhall theym wryte.”
“I graunt,” fayd’ the kyng, as tyte,
“Ytt is well advyfed, Gawen the good’,
Evyn by the holy rood’!”—
Sone were they [the, MS.] both redy,
Gawen and’ the kyng, wytterly.
The kyng rode on way, and’ Gawen anoder,
And eu enquyred’ of man, woman, and’ other,
Whate wemen defyred’ mofte dere.
Somme fayd’ they lovyd’ to be well arayd’,
Somme fayd’ they lovyd’ to be fayre prayed’;
Somme fayd’ they lovyd’ a lufty mah,
That in theyr armys can clypp’ them and’ kyffe them than;
Somme fayd’ one, fomme fayd’ other,
And’ fo had’ Gawen getyn many an anfwer’.
By that Gawen had’ geten whate he maye,
And come agayn by a certeyn daye;
Syr Gawen had’ goten anfwerys fo many,
That had’ made a boke greatt, wytterly,
To the courte he cam agayn;
By that was the kyng comyn with hys boke,
And’ eyther on others pamplett dyd’ loke,—
“Thys may nott fayd’ [faylle?],” fayd’ Gawen.
“By God’,” fayd’ the kyng, “I drede me fore,
I caft me to feke a lytell more,
In Ynglefwod’ Foreft;
I haue butt a moneth to my day fett,
I may hapeh oh fomme good’ tydynge to hytt,
Thys thynkyth me nowe beft.”
“Do as ye lyft,” then Gawen fayd’,
“What fo eu ye do I hold’ me payd’,
Hytt is good’ to be fpyrryng;
Doute you nott, lord’, ye fhait well fpede,
Sume of yor fawes fhall help att nede,
Els itt were yll lykyng.”
Kyng Arthoure rode forth on the other day,
In to Ynglefwod’ as hys gate laye,
And’ ther he mett with a lady;
She was as vngoodly a creature,
As eu man fawe, withoute mefure,
Kyng Arthure m’vaylyd’ fecurly.
Her face was red’, her nofe fnotyd’ withall,
Her mowith wyde, her teth yalowe ou all,
With bleryd’ eyen gretter then a ball,
Her mowith was nott to lak’;
Her teth hyng out her [he, MS.] lyppe,
Her chekys fyde as wemens hyppe,
A lute fhe bare vpon her bak’.
Her nek’ long and’ therto greatt,
Her here cloteryd of af hepe,
In the fholders fhe was a yard’ brode,
Hangyng pappys to be an hors-lode,
And’ lyke a barell fhe was made;
And’ to reherfe the fowlneffe of that lady,
Ther is no tung may tell, fecurly,
Of lothlyneffe inowgt fhe had’.
She fatt on a palfray was gay begon,
With gold befett, and many a precious ftone,
Ther was an vnfemely fyght;
So fowll a creature, with oute mefure,
To ryde fo gayly, I you enfure,
Ytt was no reafoh ne ryght.
She rode to Arthoure, and thus fhe fayd’,
“God’ fpede, kyng, I am well payd’,
That I haue with the mett;
Speke with me, I rede, or thou goo,
For thy lyfe is in my hand’, I warn the foo,
That fhalt thou fynde, and’ I itt nott lett.”
“Why, what wold’ ye, lady, nowe with me?”
“Syr, I wold’ fayn nowe fpeke with the,
And tell the tydynge good’;
For alle the anfwerys that thou canft yelpe,
None of theym alle fhall the helpe,
That fhalt thou knowe, by the rood’! Thou wenyft I knowe nott thy councell,
But I warn the I knowe itt euy deall,
Yf [In the MS. part of the previous line is carelessly repeated.] I help the nott thou art butt dead?;
Graunt me, S. kyng, butt one thyng,
And’ for thy lyfe I make warrauntyng,
Or elle thou fhalt lofe thy hed’.”
“Whate mean you, lady, tell me tygtit,
For of thy worde I haue great difpyte,
To you I haue no nede.
Whate is yor defyre, fayre lady,
Lett me wete fhortly,
Whate is yor meanyng;
And’ why my lyfe is in yor hand’,
Tell me, and’ I fhall you warraunt,
Alle yor oun afkyng?”
“For foth,” fayd’ the lady, “I am no qued’,
Thou muft graunt me a knyght to wed’,
His name is S. Gawen;
And’ fuche couen‘nt I woll make the,
Butt thorowe myne anfwere thy lyf’ fauyd’ be,
Elle lett my defyre be in vayne.
And’ yf myne anfwere faue thy lyf’,
Graunt me to be Gawens wyf’,
Advyfe the nowe, S. kyng;
For itt muft be fo, or thou artt butt dead’,
Chofe nowe, for thou mayfte fone lofe thyne hed’.
Tell me nowe in hying.”
“Mary,” fayd’ the kyng, “I maye nott graunt the,
To make warrant S. Gawen to wed’ the,
Alle lyeth in hym alon;
Butt and’ itt be fo, I woll do my labor,
In favyng of my lyfe to make itt secor,
To Gawen woll I make my mone.”
“Well,” fayd’ fhe, “nowe go home agayn,
And’ fayre worde fpeke to S. Gawen,
For thy lyf? I may faue;
Though I be foull, yett am I gaye,
Thourgh me thy lyfe faue he maye,
Or fewer thy deth to haue.”
“Alas!”? he fayd’, “now woo is me,
That I fhold’ caufe Gawen to wed’ the,
For he wol be loth to faye naye;
So foull a lady as ye ar nowe one
Sawe I neu in my lyfe on ground’ gone,
I nott whate I do may.”
“No force, S. kyng, thougt I be foull,
Choyfe for a make hatti an owll,
Thou geteft of me no more;
When thou comyft agayn to thyne anfwer’,
Ryght in this place I shatt mete the here,
Or elle I wott thou artt lore [lore fowll, MS.].”
“Now farewell,” fayd’ the kyng, “lady,
“Ye, S.,” fhe fayd’, “ther is a byrd’ men catt ah owll [Sic MS.],
And’ yett a lady I am;”—
“Whate is yor name, I pray you tell me?”
“Syr kyng, I hight dame Ragneit, truly,
That neu yett begylyd’ man.”
“Dame Ragnell, nowe haue good’ daye,”—
“Syr kyng, God’ fpede the on thy way,
Ryght here I fhall the mete.”
Thus they departyd’ fayre and’ weit,
The kyng full fone com to Carlyll,
And’ his hartt hevy and’ greatt.
The fyrfte man he mett was S. Gawen,
That vnto the kyng thus gan fayn,
“Syr, howe haue ye fped’?”
“Forfoth,” fayd’ the kyng, “neu fo yll,
Alas! I am in poynt my felf to fpyll,
For nedely I moft be ded’.”
“Nay,” fayd’ Gawen, “that may nott be,
I had’ lever my felf be dead’, fo mott I the,
Thys is ill tydand’.”
“Gawen, I mett to day with the fowlyft lady
That ev I fawe, S.tenly;
She fayd’ to me my lyfe fhe wold’ faue,
Butt fyrft fhe wold’ the to husbond’ haue;
Wherfor I aim wo begon,
Thus in my hartt I make my mone.”
“Ys this all?” theh fayd’ Gawen,
“I shall wed’ her and’? wed’ her agayn,
Thowgh fhe were a fend’;
Thowgh fhe were as foull as Belfabub,
Her fhall I wed’, by the rood’,
Or elle were not I yor frende.
For ye ar my kyng with honor,
And’ haue worfhypt me in many a ftowre,
Therfor fhall I nott lett;
To faue yor lyfe, lord’, itt were my parte,
Or I were [were I, MS.] falfe and’ a greatt coward’,
And my worfhypp’ is the bett.”
“I-wys, Gawen, I mett her in Inglyfwod’,
She told’ me her name, by the rode,
That itt was dame Ragnell;
She told’ me butt I had’ of her anfwere,
Elle alle my laboure is neu the nere,
Thus fhe gaf me tell.
And butt yf her anfwer’ help me well,
Elle lett her haue her defyre no dele,
This was her coven‘nt;
And’ yf her anfwere help me, and’ none other,
Then wold’ fhe haue you, here is alle to-geder,
That made fhe warraunt.”
“As for this,” fayd’ Gawen, “[it] fhall nott lett,
I woll wed’ her at whate time ye woll fett,
I pray you make no care;
For and’ fhe were the mofte fowlyft wygit,
That eu men myegiit fe with fyght,
For yor loue I woll nott fpare.”
“Garam’cy, Gawen,” then fayd’ kyng Arthor,
“Of alle knygtite thou bereft the flowre,
That eu yett I fond’;
My worfhypp’ and’ my lyf’ thou favyft for eu,
Therfore my loue fhall nott frome the dyffevyr,
As I am kyng in lond’.”
Then within v. or vj. days,
The kyng muft nedys goo his ways,
To bere his anfwere;
The kyng and’ S. Gawen rode oute of toun,
No man with them, butt they alone,
Neder ferre ne nere.
Whefi the kyng was with in the Foreft,—
“Syr Gawen, farewell, I muft go weft,
Thou fhalt no furder goo;”
“My lord’, God’ fpede you on yor jorney,
I wold’ I fhold’ nowe ryde yor way,
For to departe I am ryght wo.”
The kyng had’ rydden butt a while,
Lytell more then the fpace of a myle,
Or he mett dame Ragnell;—
“A, S. kyng, ye arre nowe welcu here,
I wott ye ryde to bere yor anfwere,
That woll avayll you no dele.”
Nowe fayd’ the kyng, “fith itt woll none other be,
Tell me yor anfwere nowe, and’ my lyfe faue me,
Gawen fhall you wed’;
So he hath pmyfed’ me my lyf’ to faue,
And’ yor defyre nowe fhall ye haue,
Both in bowre and’ in bed’.
Therfore tell me nowe alle in haft,
Whate woll help now att laft,
Haue done, I may nott tary;”—
“Syr,” quod’ dame Ragnell, “nowe fhalt thou knowe,
Whate wemen defyren mofte, of high and’ lowe,
From this I woll not varaye.
Summe men fayfi, we defyre to be fayre,
Alfo we defyre to haue repayre,
Of diufe ftraunge men;
Alfo we loue to haue luft in bed’,
And’ often we defyre to wed’,
Thus ye mef nott ken [Sic MS.].
Yett we defyre a noder man thyng,
To be holden nott old’, but freffhe and’ yong;
With flatryng, and’ glosyng, and’ quaynt gyn,
So ye men may vs wemen eu wyn,
Of whate ye woll crave.
Ye goo full nyfe, I wott nott lye,
Butt there is one thyng is alle oure fantafye,
And’ that nowe fhall ye knowe;
We defyref of men, aboue alle man thyng,
To haue the foueynte, wtoute lefyng,
Of alle, both hygh and’ lowe.
For where we haue foueynte alle is ourys,
Though a knyght be neu fo ferys,
And’ eu the maftry wynne;
Of the mofte manlyeft is oure defyre,
To haue the foueynte of fuche a fyre,
Suche is oure crafte and’ gynne.
Therfore wend’, S. kyng, on thy way,
And’ tell that knyght, as I the faye,
That itt is as we defyrefi mofte;
He wol be wroth and’ vnfought,
And’ curfe her faft, that itt the taught,
For his laboure is loft.
Go forth, S. kyng, and’ hold’ pmyfe,
For thy lyfe is fure nowe in alle wyfe,
That dare I well vndertake.”
The kyng rode forth a greatt fhake,
As faft as he myght gate;
Thorowe myre, more, and’ fenne,
Where as the place was fygnyd’ and’ fett then,
Evyn there with S Gromy he mett.
And’ ftern worde to the king he fpak’ with that,—
“Com of, S. kyng, nowe lett fe,
Of thyne anfwere whate itt fhal be,
For I am redy grathyd’.”
The kyng pullyd’ oute boke twayne,—
“Syr, ther is myne anfwer’, I dare fayn,
For fomme wott help at nede.”
Syr Gromy lokyd’ on theym euychon,—
“Nay, nay, S. kyng, thou artt but a dead’ mafi,
Therfor nowe fhalt thou blede.”
“Abyde, S. Gromy,” fayd’ kyng Arthoure,
“I haue one anfwere fhatt make all [ale, MS.] fure,” —
“Lett fe,” then fayd’ S. Gromy;
“Or els, fo God’ me help as I the fay,
Thy deth thou fhalt haue wt large paye,
I tell the nowe enfure.”
Now fayd’ the kyng, “I fe, as I geffe,
In the is butt a lytell gentilneffe,
By God’, that ay is helpand’!
Here is oure anfwere, and’ that is alle,
That wemen defyren mofte fpeciall,
Both of fre and’ bond’.
I faye no more, butt aboue al thyng
Wemeh defyre fuleynte, for that is theyr lykyng,
And’ that is ther moft defyre;
To have the rewll of the manlyeft meh,
And’ then ar they well, thus they me dyd’ ken,
To rule the, Grom’ fyre.”
“And’ fhe that told’ the nowe, S. Arthoure,
I pray to God’, I maye fe her bren on a fyre,
For that was my fufter dame Ragnell;
That old’ scott, God’ geve her [he MS.] fhame!
Elle had’ I made the full tame,
Nowe haue I loft moche travayll.
Go where thou wolt, kyng Arthoure,
For of me thou maifte be eu fure,
Alas! that I eu fe this day;
Nowe, well I wott, myne enime thou wolt be,
An@ att fuche a pryk’ fhall I ned gett the,
My fong may be well-awaye!”
“No,” fayd’ the kyng, “that make I warraunt,
Some harnys I woll haue to make me defendaunt,
That make I God’ avowe!
In fuche a plyght fhallt thou net me fynde,
And’ yf thou do, lett me bete and’ bynde,
As is for thy beft prouf [prow?].”
“‘ Nowe haue good’ day,” fayd’ S. Gromy,
“Farewell,” fayd’ S. Arthoure, “fo mott I the,
I am glad’ I haue fo fped’.”—
King Arthoure turnyd’ hys hors into the playn,
And’ fone he mett with dame Ragnelt agayn,
In the fame place and’ ftede.
“Syr kyng, I am glad’ ye haue fped’ well,
I told’ howe itt wold’ be, euy dell,
Nowe hold’ that ye haue hyght;
Syn I haue fauyd’ yor lyf’, and’ none other,
Gawen muft me wed’, S. Arthoure,
That is a full gentill knyght.”
“No, lady, that I you hight I fhall not fayll,
So ye wol be rulyd’ by my cowncell,
Yor will then fhall ye haue;”—
“Nay, S. kyng, nowe woll I nott foo,
Openly I wol be weddyd’ or I parte the froo,
Elle fhame woll ye haue.
Ryde before, and’ I woll com after,
Vnto thy courte, S. kynge Arthoure,
Of no man I woll fhame;
Be-thynk’ you howe I haue fauyd’ yor lyf’,
Therfor with me nowe fhall ye nott ftryfe,
For and’ ye do, ye be to blame.”
The kyng of her had’ greatt fhame,
But forth fhe rood’, though he were grevyd’;
Tyll they cam to Karlyle forth they mevyd’.
In to the courte fhe rode hym by,
For no man wold’ fhe fpare, fecurly,
Itt likyd’ the kyng full yll.
Alle the contraye had’ wonder greatt,
Fro whens fhe com, that foule vnfwete,
They fawe neu of fo fowll a thyng;
In to the hall fhe went, in certen,—
“Arthoure kyng, lett fetche me S. Gaweyn,
Before the knyghte, alle in hying.
That I may nowe be made fekyr,
In welle and’ wo trowith plyght vs togeder,
Before alle thy chyvalry;
This is yor graunt, lett fe, haue done,
Sett forth S. Gawen, my love, anon,
For lenger tarying kepe nott I.”
Then cam forth S. Gawen the knyght,—
“Syr, I am redy of that I you hyght,
Alle forwarde to fulfyll;”
“Godhauemrcy,” fayd’ dame Ragnell then,
“For thy fake I wold’ I were a fayre woman,
For thou art of fo good’ wyll.”
Ther S. Gawen to her his trowth plyght,
In well and’ in woo, as he was a true knyght,
Then was dame Ragnell fayn;
“Alas!” then fayd’ dame Gaynor,
So fayd’ alle the ladyes in her bower,
And’ wept for S. Gawen.
“Alas!” then fayd’ both kyng and’ knyght,
That eu he fhold’ wed’ fuch a wyght,
She was fo fowit and’ horyble;
She had’ two teth on euy fyde,
As borys tuske, I woll nott hyde,
Of length a large handfull.
The one tufk’ went up, and the other doun,
A mowth full wyde, and’ fowll igrown,
With grey herys many on;
Her lyppe lay lumpryd’ on her chyn,
Nek’ forsoth on her was none ifeen,
She was a lothly on!
She wold’ nott be weddyd’ in no man’,
Butt there were made a krye in alle the fhyre,
Boti in town and’ in borowe;
Alle the ladyes nowe of the lond’,
She lett kry to com to hand’,
To kepe that brydalle thorowe.
So itt befyll after on a daye,
That maryed’ fhold’ be that fowll [lady |
Vuto S. Gaweyn;
The daye was comyn the daye fhold’ be,
Therof the ladyes had’ greatt pitey,
“Alas!” then gan they fayn.
The queeh prayd’ dame Ragnell, fekerly,
To be maryed’ in the mornyng erly,
As pryvaly as we may;
“Nay,” fhe fayd’, “by hevyn kyng!
That woll I neu’, for no thyng,
For ought that ye can faye.
I wol be weddyd’ alle openly,
For with the kyng fuche covern’nt made I,
I putt you oute of dowte;
I woll nott to church tyll high maffe tyme,
And’ in the open halle I woll dyne,
In myddys of alle the rowte.”
“I am greed’,” fayd’ dame Gaynor,
“Butt me wold’ thynk’ more honor,
And yor worfhypp’ mofte;”—
“Ye, as for that, lady, God’ you fane,
This daye my worfhypp’ woll I haue,
I tell you withoute bofte.”
She made her redy to church to fare,
And’ alle the State that there ware,
Syrs, withoute lefyng;
She was arayd’ in the richeft man’,
More freffher than dame Gayno’.
Her arayment was worth iij Ml mark’,
Of good’ red’ nobles ftyff and’ ftark’,
So rychely fhe was begon;
For alle her rayment fhe bare the bell
Of fowlneffe, that eu I hard’ tell,
So fowll a fowe fawe neu man.
For to make a fhortt conclufion,
When fhe was weddyd’, they hyed’ theym home,
To mete alle they went;
This fowll lady bygan the high defe,
She was full foull, and’ nott curteys,
So fayd’ they alle, verament.
When the fuyee cam her before,
She ete as moche as vj. that ther wore,
That m’vaylyd’ many a man;
Her naylys were long ynchys iij,
Therwith fhe breke her mete vngoodly,
Therfore fhe ete alone.
She ette iij. capons, and’ alfo curlues iij,
And’ greatt bake mete fhe ete vp, pde,
Al men therof had’ m’vayll;
Ther was no mete ca her before,
Butt fhe ete itt vp, leffe and’ more,
That praty fowll damefell.
All mefi then that eu her fawe,
Bad’ the devill her bonys gnawe,
Both knyght and fquyre;
So fhe ete tyll mete was done,
Tyll they drewe clothes, and’ had’ waffhen,
As is the gyfe and’ man’.
Meny mein wold? fpeke of diufe fuice,
I trowe ye may wete inowgti ther was,
Both of tame and’ wylde;
In king Arthours courte ther was no wontt,
That myght be gotten with mannys hond’,
Noder in foreft ne in feld’.
Ther were mynftralle of diuse contrey

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[A leaf here is wanting.]

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“A, S. Gawen, fyn I haue you wed’,
Shewe me yor cortefy in bed’,
With rygtht itt may nott be denyed’.
I-wyfe, S. Gawen,” that lady fayd’,
“And’ I were fayre, ye wold’ do a noder brayd’,
Butt of wedlok’ ye take no hed’;
Yett for Arthours fake, kyffe me att the lefte,
I pray you do this att my requeft,
Lett fe, howe ye can fpede.”
S. Gawen fayd’, “I woll do more
Then for to kyffe, and’ God’ before!”
He turnyd’ hym her vntill;
He fawe her the fayreft creature,
That eu he fawe, withoute mefure,—
She fayd’, “whatt is yor wyll?”
“A, Ihu!” he [fhe, MS.] fayd’, “whate ar ye?”
“S., I am yor wyf’, fecurly,
Why ar ye fo unkynde?”
“A, lady, I am to blame,
I cry you m’cy, my fayre madame,
Itt was nott in my mynde.
A lady ye ar fayre in my fyght,
And’ to day ye were the foulyft wyght,
That eu I fawe with myne ie [ien, MS.];
Wele is me, my lady, I haue you thus,”—
And’ brafyd’ her in his armys, and’ gan her kyffe,
And’ made greatt joye, fycurly.
“Syr,” fhe fayd’, “thus fhall ye me haue,
Chefe of the one, fo God’ me faue,
My beawty woll nott hold’;
Wheder ye woll haue me fayre of nyghte [nyght, MS.].
And’ as foull of days to alle men fighte;
Or els to haue me fayre on days,
And’ of nyghte on the fowlyft wyfe,
The one ye muft nede haue;
Chefe the one or the oder,
Chefe of, S. knyght, which you is leu,
Yor worfhypp’ for to faue.”
“Alas!” fayd’ Gawen, “the choyfe is hard’,
To chefe the beft itt is froward’,
Wheder choyfe that I chefe;
To haue you fayre on nyghte and’ no more,
That wold’ greve my hartt ryght fore,
And’ my worfhypp’ fhold’ I lefe [lofe, MS.].
And’ yf I defyre oft days to haue you fayre,
Theh of nyghte I fhold’ haue a fymple repayre,
Now fayn wold’ I chofe the beft;
I ne wott in thys world’ whate I fhall faye,
Butt do as ye lyft nowe, my lady gaye,
The choyfe I putt in yor fyft.
Euyn as ye woll I putt itt in yor hand’,
Lofe me when ye lyft, for I am bond’,
I putt the choyfe in you;
Both body and’ goode, hartt, and’ euy dele,
Ys alle yor oun, for to by and’ fell,
That make I God’ avowe!”
« Garam’cy, corteys knyght,” fayd’ the lady,
“Of alle erthly knygihe blyffyd’ mott thou be,
For now am I worfhyppyd’;
Thou fhall haue me fayre both day and’ nyght,
And’ eu whyle I lyve as fayre and’ bryght,
Therfore be nott greuyd’.
For I was fhapen by nygramancy,
With my ftepdame, God’ haue on her m’cy! And’ by enchauntement;
And’ fhold’ haue bene oderwyse vnderftond’,
Euyn tyll the beft of Englond’
Had’ wedyd’ me, verament.
And’ alfo he fhold’ geve me the foueynte,
Of alle his body and’ goode, fycurly,
Thus was I difformyd’;
And’ thou, S. knyght, curteys Gawen,
Has gevyn me the foueynte, fteyn,
That woll not wroth the erly ne late.
Kyffe me, S. knyght, euyn now here,
I pray the, be glad’, and’ make ‘good’ chere,
For well is me begoh”;—
Ther they made joye, oute of mynde,
So was itt reason and’ cors of kynde,
They two theym felf alone.
She thankyd’ God’ and’ Mary mylde,
She was recoud of that that fhe was defoylyd’,
So dyd’ S. Gawen;
He made myrth alle in her boure,
And’ thankyd’ of alle oure Sauyoure,
I tell you, in certeyn.
With joye & myrth they wakyd’ tyll daye,
And’ than wold’ ryfe that fayre maye [mayd, MS.],
“Ye fhall nott,” S. Gawen fayd’;
“We woll lye, & flepe tyll pryme,
And’ then lett the kyng call vs to dyne,”—
“] am greed’,” then fayd’ the mayd’.
Thus itt paffyd’ forth tyll mid-daye,—
“Syrs [ Syr, MS.],” quod’ the kyng, “lett vs go and’ afaye,
Yf S. Gawen be of lyve;
I am full ferd’ of S. Gawen,
Nowe left the fende haue hym flayn,
Nowe wold’ I fayn preve.
Go we nowe,” fayd’ Arthoure the kyng,
“We woll go fe theyr vpryfyng,
Howe well that he hath fped’;”—
They cam to the chambre, alle in certeyn,
“Aryfe,” fayd’ the kyng to S. Gawen,
“Why flepyft thou fo long in bed??”
“Mary,” quod’ Gawen, “S. kyng, ficurly,
I wold’ be glad’ and’ ye wold’ lett me be,
For I am full well att eas;
Abyde, ye fhall fe the dore vndone,
I trowe that ye woll fay I am well goon,
I am futt loth to ryfe.”
Syr Gawen rofe, and’ in his hand’ he toke
His fayr lady, and’ to the dore he fhoke,
And’ opynyd’ the dore full fayre;
She ftod’ in her fmok’ alle by that fyre,
Her her [hed, MS.] was to her knees as red’ as gold’ wyre,—
“Lo! this is my repayre.
Lo!” fayd’ Gawen Arthoure vntill,
« Syr, this is my wyfe, dame Ragnell,
That fauyd’ onys yor lyfe;’—
He told’ the kyng and’ the queen hem beforn,
Howe fodenly from her fhap fhe dyd’ torne,
“My lord’, nowe be yor leve.”
And’ whate was the caufe fhe forfhapen was,
Syr Gawen told’ the kyng, both more and’ leffe,
“I thank’ God’,” fayd’ the queen;
“I wenyd’, S. Gawen, fhe wold’ the haue myfcaryed’,
Therfore in my hartt I was fore agrevyd’,
Butt the contrary is here feen.”
Ther was game, revell, and’ playe,
And’ euy man to other gan faye,
“She is a fayre wyght;”
Than the kyng theym alle gan tell,
How did’ held’ hym att nede dame Ragnell,
“Or my deth had’ bene dyght.”
Ther the kyng told’ the queen, by the rood’,
Howe he was beftad’ in Inglefwod’,
With S. Gromy fom’ Joure;
And’ whate othe the kngyht made hym fwere,
“Or elle he had’ slay me ryght there,
Wtoute m’cy or mefure.
This fame lady, dame Ragnell,
From my det fhe dyd’ help me ryght well,
Alle for the love of Gawen;”—
The Gawen told’ the king alle to-geder,
Howe forfhapen fhe was with her ftepmoder
Tyll a knyght had’ holpen her agayf.
Ther fhe told’ the kyng fayre and’ well,
How Gawen gave her the foueynte euy dell,
And’ whate choyfe fhe gave to hym;—
“God’ thank’ hym of his curtesye,
He favid’ me from chaunce and’ vilony,
That was full foull and’ grym.
Therfore, curteys knyght and’ hend’ Gawen,
Shatt I ned wrath the, fteyn,
That pmyfe nowe here I make;
Whille that I lyve I fhal be obayfaunt,
To God’ aboue I fhall itt warraunt,
And’ neu with you to debate.”
“Garam’cy, lady,” then fayd’ Gawen,
“Wt you I hold’ me full well content,
And’ that I truft to fynde;’—
He fayd’, “my loue fhall fhe haue,
Therafter nede fhe neu more craue,
For fhe hath bene to me fo kynde.”
The queen fayd’, and’ the ladyes alle,
“She is the fayreft nowe in this halle,
I fwere by Seynt John !—
My loue, lady, ye fhall haue eu,
For that ye favid’ my lord’ Arthoure,
As I am a gentilwoman.”
Syr Gawen gatt on her Gyngolyn,
That was a good’ knygiit of strength and’ kyng,
And’ of the Table Round’;
Att euy greatt feft that lady fhold’ be,
Of fayrneffe fhe bare away the bewtye,
Wher fhe yed’ oft the ground’.
Gawen louyd’ that lady, dame Ragnell,
In alle his lyfe he louyd’ none fo well,
I tell you, withoute lefyng;
As a coward’ he lay by her both day and’ nyght,
Neu wold’ he haunt justyng aryght,
Ther att m’vaylyd’ Arthoure the kyng [kyng Arthoure, MS.].
She prayd’ the kyng, for his gentilnes,
To be good’ lord’ to S. Gromy i-wyffe,
Of that to you he hath offendyd’;—
“Yes, lady, that shall I nowe, for yor fake,
For I wott well he may nott amende make,
He dyd’ to me full vnhend’.”
Nowe for to make you a fhort conclufyoh,
I caft me for to make ah end’ full fone,
Of this gentyll lady;
She lyvyd’ with S. Gawen butt yerys v.
That grevyd’ Gawen alle his lyfe,
I tell you, fecurly.
In her lyfe fhe grevyd’ hym neu,
Therfor was neu woman to hym lever,
Thus leves my talkyng;
She was the fayreft lady of all [ale, MS.] Englond’,
When fhe was on Iyve, I vnderstond’,
So fayd’ Arthoure the kyng.
Thus endyth the aduenture of kyng Arthoure,
That oft in his days was grevyd’ fore,
And’ of the weddyng of Gawen;
Gawen was weddyd’ oft in his days,
Butt fo well he net lovyd’ woman always,
As I haue hard’ men fayn.
This aduenture befell in Inglefwod’,
As good’ kynge Arthoure of huntyng yod’,
Thus haue I hard’ men tell;
Nowe, God’, as thou were in Bethleme born,
Suffer neu her foules be forlorne,
In the brynnyng fyre of hell!
And’, Ihu, as thou were borne of a virgyn,
Help hym oute of forowe, that this tale dyd’ devyne,
And’ that nowe in alle haft;
For he is be-fett with gaylours many,
That kepeh hym full fewerly,
With wyles wrong & wrafte.
Nowe, God’, as thou art veray kyng ryoall,
Help hym oute of daunger that made this tale,
For therin he hath bene long;
And’ of greatt pety help thy funt,
For body & foull I yeld’ into thyne hand’,
For paynes he hath ftrong.

Here endyth the weddyng of Syr Gawen and Dame Ragnell, for helpyng of Kyng Arthoure.

Madden also provides several notes on the poem:

A version of the verse in a rather more modern form appeared in Percy’s “Reliques of Ancient English Poetry”, which was later widely reprinted.

From “Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry”, in “Tales of Wonder”, 1801

https://archive.org/details/talesofwonder02lewirich/page/362/mode/2up

Tales of wonder; by Lewis, M. G. (Matthew Gregory), 1775-1818; Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832; Southey, Robert, 1774-1843; Leyden, John, 1775-1811

Also in Reliques of ancient English poetry: consisting of Old Heroic Ballads, Songs, and other Pieces of our earlier Poets, (Chiefly of the Lyric kind.) Together with some few of later Date. Volume the third, p11-24, Bishop Thomas Percy, 1765.

Publication date 1801

Vol. 2

pp. 362-378

No. XLV.

THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAINE.

From “Percy’s Reliques of Ancient English Poetry”.

PART I.

King Arthur lives in merry Carleile,
And seemely is to see;
And there with him Queene Guenever,
That bride soe bright of blee.

And there with him Queene Guenever,
That bride so bright in bowre:
And all his barons about him stoode,
That were both stiffe and stowre.

The King a royale Christmasse kept,
With mirth and princelye cheare;
To him repaired many a knighte,
That came both farre and neare.

And when they were to dinner sette,
And cups went freely round;
Before them came a faire damselle,
And knelt upon the ground.

—“A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthure,
“I beg a boone of thee;
“Avenge me of a carlish knighte,
“Who hath shent my love and mee.

“At Tearne-Wadling [Tearne-Wadling is the name of a small lake near Hasketh in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. There is a tradition, that an old castle once stood near the lake, the remains of which were not long since visible. Tearh, in the dialect of that country, signifies a small lake, and is still in use. ] his castle stands,
“Near to that lake so fair,
“And proudlye rise the battlements,
“And streamers deck the air.

“Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay,
“May pass that castle-walle:
“But from that foule discurteous knighte,
“Mishappe will them befalle.

“Hee’s twyce the size of common men,
“Wi’ thewes, and sinewes stronge,
“And on his backe he bears a clubbe,
“That is both thicke and longe.

“This grim me Barone ‘twas our harde happe,
“But yester morne to see;
“When to his bowre he bare my love,
“And sore misused mee.

“And when I told him, King Arthure
“As lyttle shold him spare;
“Goe tell, say’d hee, that cuckold kinge,
“To meete mee if he dare” —

Upp then sterted King Arthure,
And sware by hille and dale,
He ne’er wolde quitt that grimme Barone,
Till he had made him quail.

“Goe fetch my sword Excalibar:
“Goe saddle mee my steede;
“Nowe, by my faye, that grimme Barone
“Shall rue this ruthfuUe deede.

And when he came to Tearne-Wadlinge
Benethe the castle walk:
“Come forth; come forth; thou proude Barone,
“Or yielde thyself my thralle.”

On magicke grounde that castle stoode,
And fenced with many a spelle:
Noe valiant knighte could tread thereon,
But straite his courage felle.

Forth then rush’d that carlish Knight,
King Arthure felte the charme:
His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe,
Downe sunke his. feeble arme.

— “Nowe yield thee, yield thee, Kinge Arthure,
“Now yield thee unto mee;
“Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande,
“Noe better termes maye bee.

“Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood,
“And promise on thy faye,
“Here to returne to Tearne-Wadling,
“Upon the new-yeare’s daye;

“And bringe me worde what thing it is
“All women moste desyre;
“This is thy ransome, Arthur” he sayes,
“He have noe other hyre.” —

King Arthur then helde up his hande,
And sware upon his faye,
Then took his leave of the grimme Barone
And faste hee rode awaye.

And he rode east, and he rode west,
And did of all inquyre,
What thing it is all women crave,
And what they most desyre.

Some told him riches, pompe, or state;
Some rayment fine and brighte;
Some told him mirthe; some flatterye;
And some a jollye knighte.

In letters all King Arthur wrote,
And seal’d them with his ringe:
But still his minde was helde in doubte,
Each tolde a different thinge.

As ruthfulle he lode over a more,
He saw a Ladye sette
Betweene an oke, and a greene holleye,
All clad in red scarlette.

Her nose was crookt and turnd outwarde,
Her chin stoode all awrye;
And where as sholde have been her mouthe,
Lo! there was set her eye;

Her haires, like serpents, clung aboute
Her cheekes of deadlye hewe:
A worse-form’d ladye than she was,
No man mote ever viewe.

To hail the King in seemelye sorte
This ladye was fulle faine;
But King Arthure all sore amaz’d,
No aunswere made againe.

— “What wight art thou,” the Ladye say’d,
“That wilt not speake to mee;
“Sir, I may chance to ease thy paine,
“Though I bee Joule to see.

— “If thou wilt ease my paine,” he sayd,
“And helpe me in my neede;
“Ask what thou wilt, thou grimme Ladye,
“And it shall bee thy meede.” —

— “O sweare mee this upon the roode,
“And promise on thy faye;
“And here the secrette I will telle,
“That shall thy ransome paye” —

King Arthur promised on his faye,
And sware upon the roode:
The secrette then the Ladye told,
As lightlye well she cou’de.

— “Now this shall be my paye,” sir King,
“And this my guerdon bee,
“That some yong fair and courtlye knight,
“Thou bringe to marrye mee,” —

Fast then pricked King Arthure
Ore hille, and dale, and downe:
And soone he founde the Barone’s bowre,
And soone the grimme Baroune.

He bare his clubbe upon his backe,
Hee stoode bothe stiffe and stronge;
And, when he had the letters reade,
Awaye the letters flunge.

— “Nowe yielde thee, Arthur, and thy lands,
“All forfeit unto mee;
“For this is not thy paye, sir King,
“Nor may thy ransome bee.” —

— “Yet hold thy hand, thou proud Barone,
“I praye thee hold thy hand;
“And give mee leave to speake once more
“In reskewe of my land.

“This morne, as I came over a more,
“I saw a Ladye sette
“Betwene an oke, and a greene holleye,
“All clad in red scarlette;

“She sayes, all women will have their wille,
“This is their chief desyre;
“Now yield, as thou art a Barone true,
“That I have payd mine hyre.”

— “An earlye vengeaunce light on her!”
The carlish Baron swore:
“Shee was my sister tolde thee this,
“And shee’s a misshapen whore.

“But here I will make mine avowe,
“To do her as ill a turne:
“For an ever I may that foule theefe gette,
“In a fyre I will her burne”—

PART II.

Homewarde pricked King Arthure,
And a wearye man was hee;
And soone he mette Queene Guenever,
That bride so bright of blee.

— “What newes I what newes I thou noble King,
“Howe, Arthur, hast thou sped?
“Where hast thou hung the carlish Knighte?
“And where bestow’d his head?” —

— “The carlish Knight is safe for mee,
“And free fro mortal harme:
“On magicke grounde his castle stands,
“And fenced with many a charme.

“To bowe to him I was fulle faine,
“And yielde mee to his hand;
“And but for a lothly Ladye, there
“I sholde have lost my land.

“And nowe this fills my hearte with woe,
“And sorrowe of my life;
“I swore a yonge and courtlye knight,
“Sholde marry her to his wife.” —

Then bespake him Sir Gawaine,
That was ever a gentle knighte:
— “That lothly Ladye I will wed;
“Therefore be merrye and lighte”—

— “Nowe naye, nowe naye, good Sir Gawaine;
“My sister’s sonne yee bee;
“This lothlye Ladye’s all too grirame,
“And all too foule for yee.

“Her nose is crookt, and turn’d outwardc;
“Her chin stands all awrye;
“A worse form’d ladye than shee is
“Was never seen with eye.” —

— “What though her chin stand all awrye,
“And shee be foule to see:
“I’ll marry her, unkle, for thy sake,
“And I’ll thy ransome bee.”—

— “Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good Sir Gawaine;
“And a blessing thee betyde!
“To-morrow wee’ll have knights and squires,
“And wee’ll goe fetch thy bride.

“And wee’ll have hawkes, and wee’ll have houndes,
“To cover our intent;
“And wee’ll away to the greene forest,
“As wee a hunting went—

Sir Lancelot, Sir Stephen bolde,
They rode with them that daye;
And foremoste of the companye
There rode the stewarde Kaye:

Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore,
And eke Sir Garratte keene;
Sir Tristram too, that gentle knight,
To the forest freshe and greene.

And when they came to the greene forrest,
Beneathe a faire holley tree,
There sate that Ladye in red scarlette
That unseemelye was to see.

Sir Kay beheld that Lady’s face,
And looked upon her sweere;
— “Whoever kisses that Ladye,” he sayes,
“Of his kisse he stands in feare.” —

Sir Kay beheld that Ladye againe,
And looked upon her snout;
— “Whoever kisses that Ladye,” he sayes,
“Of his kisse he stands in doubt” —

— “Peace, brother Kay,” sayde Sir Gawaine,
“And amend thee of thy life;
“For there is a Knight amongst us all,
“Must marry her to his wife,”-—

— “What, marry this foule queane,” quoth Kay,
“I’ the devils name anone;
“Gett mee a wife wherever I maye,
“In sooth shee shall be none,”—

Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste,
And some tooke up their houndes;
And sayd they wolde not many her,
For cities, nor for townes.

Then bespake him King Arthure,
And sware there by this daye;
—“For a little foule sighte and mislikinge,
“Yee shall not say her naye.” —

— “Peace, Lordings, peace;” Sir Gawaine sayd;
“Nor make debate and strife;
“This lothlye Ladye I will take,
“And marry her to my wife”—

-— “Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good Sir Gawaine,
“And a blessinge be thy meede!
“For as I am thine owne ladye,
“Thou never shalt rue this deede.” —

Then up they took that lothly Dame,
And home anone they bringe:
And there Sir Gawaine he her wed,
And married her with a ringe.

And when they were in wed-bed laid,
And all were done awaye:
— “Come turne to mee, mine owne wed-lord,
“Come turne to mee I praye.” —

Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head,
For sorrowe and for care;
When, lo I instead of (hat lothelye Dame,
Hee sawe a young Ladye faire.

Sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheeke,
Her eyen were blacke as sloe:
The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe,
And all her necke was snowe.

Sir Gawaine kiss’d that Lady faire,
Lying upon the sheete:
And swore, as he was a true Knighte,
The spice was never soe sweete.

Sir Gawaine kiss’d that Lady brighter
Lying there by his side:
— “The fairest flower is not soe faire:
“Thou never can st bee my bride.”—

— “I am thy bride, mine owne deare Lorde,
“The same whiche thou didst knowe,
“That was soe lothlye, and was wont
“Upon the wild more to goe.

“Nowe, gentle Gawaine, chuse,” quoth shee,
“And make thy choice with care;
“Whether by night, or else by daye,
“Shall I be foule or faire?” —

— “To have thee foule still in the night,
“When I with thee should playe!
“I had rather farre, my lady deare,
“To have thee foule by daye.”—

— “What, when gaye ladyes goe with their lordes
“To drinke the ale and wine;
“Alas I then I must hide myself,
“I must not goe with mine?”—

— “My faire ladye,” Sir Gawaine sayd,
“I yield me to thy skille;
“Because thou art mine owne ladye
“Thou shalt have all thy wille.” —

— “Nowe blessed be thou, sweete Gawaine,
“And the daye that I thee see;
“For as thou seest mee at this time,
“See shall I ever bee.

“My father was an aged knighte,
“And yet it chanced soe,
“He tooke to wife a false ladye,
“Whiche broughte me to this woe.

“Shee witch’d mee, being a faire yonge maide,
“In the greene forest to dwelle;
“And there to abyde in lothlye shape,
“Most like a fiend of helle.

“Midst mores and mosses; woods, and wilds;
“To lead a lonesome life:
“Till some yong faire and courtlye knighte,
“Wolde marrye me to his wife;

“Nor fully to gaine mine owne trewe shape,
“Such was her devilish skille;
“Until he wolde yielde to be ruled by mee,
“And let mee have all my wille.

“She witchd my brother to a carlish boore,
“And made him stiffe and stronge:
“And built him a bowre on magicke grounde,
“To live by rapine and wronge.

“But now the spelle is broken throughe,
“And wronge is turnde to righte;
“Henceforth I shall be a faire ladye,
“And hee be a gentle knighte,”—

As to the tale itself, Brock and Coulston focus on the “loathely lady” motif, and the extent to which Gawaine and Dame Ragnell is a parrallel of Chaucer’s “The Wife of Bath”.

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell, 1872

https://archive.org/details/originalsanalogu00furnuoft

Originals and analogues of some of Chaucer’s Canterbury tales by Furnivall, Frederick James, 1825-1910; Brock, Edmund; Clouston, W. A. (William Alexander), 1843-1896

Publication date [1872]

pp. 498-509

Judging from the number of versions still extant, this curious tale must have been a great favourite during the middle ages, when it was so much the fashion to decry women and example-books of their profligacy and trickery were rife. The story is the subject of two long ballads in the Percy folio MS., of one of which Prof. Child gives the outline in his English and Scottish Ballads, Boston (U.S.), 1884, Part ii., pp. 289, 290:

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell

ARTHUR, while hunting in Ingleswood, stalked and finally shot a great hart, which fell in a fern-brake. While the king, alone and far from his men, was engaged in making the assay, there appeared a groom, bearing the quaint name of Gromer Somer Joure, [Sir Gromer occurs in "The Turke and Gowin," Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, i., 102; Sir Grummore Grummorsum, "a good knight of Scotland," in Morte d' Arthur ed. Wright, i., 286, and elsewhere. Madden.] who grimly told him that he meant now to requite him for having taken away his lands. Arthur represented that it would be a shame to knighthood for an armed man to kill a man in green, and offered him any satisfaction. The only terms Gromer would grant were that Arthur should come back alone to that place that day twelvemonth, and then tell him what women love best; not bringing the right answer, he was to lose his head. The king gave his oath, and they parted. The knights, summoned by the king’s bugle, found him in heavy cheer, and the reason he would at first tell no man, but after a while he took Gawain into confidence. Gawain advised that they two should ride into strange country in different directions, put the question to every man and woman they met, and write the answers in a book. This they did, and each made a large collection. Gawain thought they could not fail, but the king was anxious, and considered that it would be prudent to spend the only month that was left in prosecuting the inquiry in the region of Ingleswood. Gawain agreed that it was good to be speering, and bade the king doubt not that some of his saws should help at need.

Arthur rode to Ingleswood, and met a lady riding on a richly caparisoned palfrey, but herself of a hideousness which beggars words; nevertheless the items are not spared. She came up to Arthur, and told him that she knew his counsel; none of his answers would help. If he would grant her one thing, she would warrant his life; otherwise, he must lose his head. This one thing was that she should be Gawain’s wife. The king said this lay with Gawain; he would do what he could, but it were a pity to make Gawain wed so foul a lady. “No matter,” she rejoined, “though I be foul, choice for a mate hath an owl. “When thou comest to thine answer, I shall meet thee; else art thou lost.”

The king returned to Carlisle with a heart no lighter, and the first man he saw was Gawain, who asked him how he had sped. Never so ill; he had met a lady who had offered to save his life, but she was the foulest he had ever seen, and the condition was that Gawain should be her husband. “Is that all?” said Gawain. “I will wed her once and again, though she were the devil; else were I no friend.” Well might the king exclaim, “Of all knights thou bearest the flower!”

After five or six days more the time came for the answer. The king had hardly ridden a mile into the forest when he met the lady, by name Dame Ragnell. He told her Gawain should wed her, and demanded her answer. “Some say this, and some say that, but above all things women desire to have the sovereignty; [See Note at the end of this paper: "Women desire Sovereignty."] tell this to the knight; he will curse her that told thee, for his labour is lost.” Arthur, thus equipped, rode on as fast as he could go, through mire and fen. Gromer was waiting, and sternly demanded the answer. Arthur offered his two books, for Dame Ragnell had told him to save himself by any of those answers if he could. “Nay, nay, king,” said Grorner, “thou art but a dead man.” “Abide, Sir Gromer, I have an answer shall make all sure. Women desire sovereignty.”

“She that told thee that was my sister, Dame Ragnell. I pray, I may see her burn on a fire.” And so they parted.

Dame Ragnell was also waiting for Arthur, and would hear of nothing but immediate fulfilment of her bargain. She followed the king to his court, and required him to produce Gawain instantly, who came and plighted his troth. The queen begged her to be married privately, and early in the morning. Dame Ragnell would consent to no such arrangement. She would not go to church till high-mass time, and she would dine in the open hall. At her wedding she was dressed more splendidly than the queen, and she sat at the head of the table at the dinner afterwards. There her appetite was all but as horrible as her person: she ate three capons, three curlews, and great bake meats all that was set before her, less and more.

A leaf is wanting now, but what followed is easily imagined. She chided Gawain for his offishness, and begged him to kiss her, at least. “I will do more,” said Gawain, and, turning, beheld the fairest creature he ever saw. But the transformed lady told him that her beauty would not hold: he must choose whether she should be fair by night and foul by day, or fair by day and foul by night. [In the Gaelic tale of "The Hoodie " (Campbell's Popular Tales of the West Highlands, i., 63) we find a similar choice. The hoodie, a kind of crow, having married the youngest of a farmer's three daughters, says to her: "Whether would'st thou rather that I should be a hoodie by day and a man at night, or be a hoodie at night and a man by day?" The woman does not leave the decision to him: "I would rather that thou wert a man by day and a hoodie at night," she replies. After this he was a splendid fellow by day and a hoodie at night. — It is a common occurrence in popular tales for the hero to have one shape at night and another by day. Thus in the Norse tale, "East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon" (Daseut), a girl is married to a white bear, who becomes a man every night, and before daybreak changes back into a bear and goes off for the day. And in Indian fictions we often read of a girl being married to a serpent who casts aside his skin at night and assumes the form of a man. When this is discovered by his wife she burns the skin while he is asleep, and henceforth he appears only as a man.] Gawain said the choice was hard, and left all to her. “Gramercy,” said the lady, “thou shalt have me fair both day and night.” Then she told him that her step-dame had turned her into that monstrous shape by necromancy, not to recover her own till the best knight in England had wedded her and given her sovereignty in all points.

A charming little scene follows, in which Arthur visits Gawain in the morning, fearing lest the fiend may have slain him.

1 This is the scene in the bridal chamber next morning:

[715] I telle you, in certeyne,
Withe joye & myrthe they wakyde tylle daye,
And thane wolde rise that fayre maye, `[mayd, MS.]`
'Ye shalle nott.' sir Gawene sayde;
'We wolle lye, & slepe tylle pryme,
[720] And thene lett the kyng calle vs to dyne.'
'I ame greed,' then sayde the mayde.
Thus itt passyde forth tylle mid-daye.
'Syrs,' `[Syr, MS.]` quode the kyng, 'lett vs go ande asaye,
Yf sir Gawene be one lyve.
[725] I ame fulle ferde of sir Gawene
Nowe, lest the fende haue hyme slayne;
Nowe wolde I fayne preve.
Go we nowe,' sayde Arthoure the kyng,
'We wolle go se theyr vprysing,
[730] How welle that he hathe spede.'
They came to the chambre, alle in certeyne;
'Aryse,' sayde the kyng to sir Gawene,
'Why slepyst thou so long in bede?'
'Mary,' quode Gawene, 'sir kyng, sicurly,
[735] I wolde be glade ande ye wolde lett me be,
For I am fulle welle att eas;
Abyde, ye shalle se the dore vndone,
I trowe that ye wolle say I am welle goone,
I ame full lothe to ryse.'
[740] Sir Gawene rose, ande in his hande he toke
His fayr lady, ande to the dore he shoke,
Ande opynyde the dore fulle fayre;
She stode in her smoke alle by that syre,
Her her `[ hed, MS.]` was to her knees as rede as golde wyre,
745 'Lo! this is my repayre.
Lo!' sayde Gawene Arthoure vntille,
'Syr, this is my wife, dame Ragnelle,
That sauyde onys yor lyfe.'
He tolde the kyng and the queene heme beforne,
[750] Howe sodenly frome her shap she dyde torne,
'My lorde, nowe be yowr leve.'
Ande whate was the cause she forshapene was,
Syr Gawene told the kyng, bothe more ande lesse.

On this ballad, Sir F. Madden suggests, was founded that of the “Marriage of Sir Gawaine,” which Percy printed, supplying from conjecture the lacunae, in the first edition of his Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, 1765, and the two subsequent editions. It is thus given in the Percy Folio MS., edited by Drs. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i., and reproduced by Prof. Child:

The Marriage of Sir Gawaine

[King Arthur is at Carlisle, keeping a merry Christmas.]

[1] Kinge Arthur liues in merry Carlisle,
And seemely is to see,
And there he hath with him Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright of blee.

[2] And there he hath with him Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright in bower,
And all his barons about him stoode,
That were both stiffe and stowre.

[3] The king kept a royall Christmasse,
Of mirth and great honor,
And when …

---

['And for ransom bring me word what is the great desire of women.' Arthur agrees to these terms, and goes back to Carlisle, moaning. Arthir tells Gawain of his encounter with the Baron at Tearne Wadling, and that to get of fighting him, he must find out, by New Year's Day, what a woman most desires. Arthur sets forth to fulfil his engagement. Crossing a moor, he sees a very hideous lady,]

[4] ‘And bring me word what thing it is
That a woman [doth] most desire;
This shall be thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes,
For he haue noe other hier.’

[5] King Arthur then held vp his hand,
According thene as was the law;
He tooke his leaue of the baron there,
And hoinward can ['gan, began.] he draw.

[6] And when he came to merry Carlile,
To his chamber he is gone,
And ther came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine,
As he did make his mone.

[7] And there came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine,
That was a curteous knight;
Why sigh you soe sore, vncle Arthur,’ he said, ‘Or who hath done thee vnright?’

[8] ‘O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine,
That faire may thee beffall!
For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe,
Thou wold not meruaile att all.

[9] ‘Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling, [A town in Inglewood Forest, near Hesketh, in Cumberland; sometimes written Tearne Wathelyne.]
A bold barron there I fand,
With a great club vpon his backe,
Standing stiife and strong.

[10] ‘And he asked me wether I wold fight
Or from him I shold begone,
O[r] else I must him a ransome pay,
And soe depart him from.

[11] ‘To fight with him I saw noe cause;
Methought it was not meet;
For he was stiffe and strong with-all,
His strokes were nothing sweete.

[12] ‘Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine,
I ought to him to pay;
I must come againe, as I am sworne,
Vpon the New Yeers day;

[13] ‘And I must bring him word what thing it is
[That a woman doth most desire.]

---

[14] Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde,
In one soe rich array,
Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling,
Thai he might keepe his day.

[15] And as he rode over a more,
Hee see a lady where shee sate
Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen;
She was cladd in red Scarlett. [This was a common phrase in our old writers: so Chaucer, in his Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, says of the Wife of Bath: "Her hosen were of fyne scarlet red." — Percy.]

[with one eye instead of her mouth, and a crooked pose. She asks, 'Who are you? Fear not me. Perhaps I may succour you.' 'Succour me, and Gawain shall marry you.']

[16] Then there as shold haue stood her mouth,
Then there was sett her eye;
The other was in her forhead fast,
The way that she might see.

[17] Her nose was crooked and turnd outward,
Her mouth stood foule a-wry;
A worse formed lady than shee was,
Neuer man saw with his eye.

[18] To halch vpon him, King Arthur,
This lady was full faine,
But King Arthur had forgott his lesson
What he shold say againe.

[19] ‘What knight art thou,’ the lady sayd,
That will not speak to me?
Of me be thou nothing dismayd,
Tho I be vgly to see.

[20] For I haue halched you curteouslye,
And you will not me againe;
Yett I may happen, Sir Knight,’ shee said,
To ease thee of thy paine.’

[21] ‘Giue thou ease me, lady,’ he said,
Or helpe me in any thing,
Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen,
And marry him with a ring.’

[22] ‘Why, if I help thee not, thou noble King Arthur,
Of thy owne hearts desiringe,
Of gentle Gawaine ….

[At the tarn he finds the Baron, who thinks Arthur cannot produce the ransom or answer, and claims him and his land. Arthur bids him wait a bit, then gives the answer: 'A woman will have her will.' The Baron curses the lady (his sister, it turns out).]

[23] And when he came to the Tearne Wadling,
The baron there cold he finde,
With a great weapon on his backe,
Standing stiffe and stronge.

[24] And then he tooke ‘King Arthur’s letters in his hands,
And away he cold them fling,
And then he puld out a good browne sword,
And cryd himselfe a king.

[25] And he sayd, ‘I have thee and thy land, Arthur,
To doe as it pleaseth me,
For this is not thy ransome sure,
Therfore yeeld thee to me.’

[26] And then bespoke him noble Arthur,
And bad him hold his hand:
And giue me leaue to speake my mind
In defence of all my land.’

[27] He said, ‘As I came over a more,
I see a lady where shee sate
Betweene an oke and a green hollen;
Shee was clad in red scarlett.

[28] ‘And she says a woman will haue her will,
And this is all her cheef desire:
Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill,
This is thy ransome and all thy hyer.’

[29] He sayes, ‘An early vengeance light on her!
She walkes on yonder more;
It was my sister that told thee this,
And she is a misshappen hore.

[30] ‘But heer Ile make mine avow to God
To doe her an euill turne,
For an euer I may thate fowle theefe get,
In a fyer I will her burne.’

---

[A company of knights, riding out with the King and Sir Gawain meet the hag. Sir Kay does not fancy her to kiss. Sir Gawain bids him to be quiet, for one of them  must have her to wife. Sir Kay says he had rather perish than it should be he. The others are of the same mind. Arthur reproves his knights.]

[31] Sir Lancelott and Sir Steven bold, [Sir Steven does not occur (says Madden) in the Round Table romances.]
They rode with them that day,
And the formost of the company
There rode the steward Kay.

[32] Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore,
Sir Garrett [Banier, probably, according to the same authority, a mistake for Bediuer, the King's Constable — Tennyson's Bedivere. Bore is Bors de Gaunes (or Gannes), brother of Lionel. Garrett is Gareth, or Gaheriet, Sir Gawaine's younger brother. Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall.] with them soe gay,
Soe did Sir Tristeraru, thai gentle knight,
To the forrest fresh and gay.

[33] And when he came to the greene forrest,
Vnderneath a greene holly tree,
Their sate that lady in red scarlet
That vnseemly was to see.

[34] Sir Kay beheld this ladys face,
And looked vppon her swire;
Whosoeuer kisses this lady,’ he sayes,
Of his kisse he stands in feare,’

[35] Sir Kay beheld the lady againe,
And looked vpon her snout;
Whosoeuer kisses this lady,’ he sayes,
Of his kisse he stands in doubt.’

[36] ‘Peace, cozen Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine,
Amend thee of thy life; For there is a knight amongst vs all,
That must marry her to his wife.’

[37] ‘What! wedd her to wiffe!’ then said Sir Kay,
In the diuells name anon!
Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may,
For I had rather be slaine!’

[38] Then some tooke vp their hawkes in hast,
And some tooke vp their hounds,
And some sware they wold not marry her
For citty nor for towne.

[39] And then be-spake him noble King Arthur,
And sware there by this day,
‘For a litle foule sight and misliking

---

[Gawain's bride asks whether her foul by day or night. Gawain answers, 'By day.' 'Then i must hide from your companions.' 'No; do as you like.' 'Bless you, Gawain, you have cured me. I was witched into the likeness of a fiend.']

[40] Then shee said, ‘Choose thee, gentle Gawaine,
Truth as I doe say, win have her foul Wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse
In the night or else in the day.’

[41] And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Was one soe mild of moode,
Sayes, ‘Well I know what I wold say,
God grant it may be good!

[42] ‘To haue thee fowle in the night
When I with thee shold play
Yet I had rather, if I might,
Haue thee fowle in the day.’

[43] ‘What! when lords goe with ther feires,’ shee said
‘Both to the ale and wine,
Alas! then I must hyde my selfe,
I must not goe withinne.’

[44] And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Said, ‘Lady, that’s but skill;
And because thou art my owne lady
Thou shalt haue all thy will.’

[45] Then she said, ‘Blessed be thou, gentle Gawaine,
This day that I thee see,
For as thou seest me att this time,
From hencforth I wilbe.

[46] ‘My father was an old knight,
And yet it chanced soe
That he marryed a younge lady
That brought me to this woe.

[47] ‘Shee witched me, being a faire young lady,
To the greene forrest to dwell,
And there I must walke in womans liknesse,
Most like a feend of hell.

[48] ‘She witch my brother to a carlisli b …

---

['Kiss her, brother Kay', says Gawain, 'and regret your rudeness'. Kay kisses her, and congratulates Gawain. He and Kay take the lady between them, and lead her to King Arthur who thanks God for Gawain's bliss. All the knights rejoice.]

[49] … … That looked soe foule, and that was wont
On the wild more to goe.’

[50] ‘Come kisse her, brother Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine,
And amend thé of thy liffe;
I sweare this is the same lady
That I marryed to my wiffe.’

[51] ‘Sir [Kay he] kissed that lady bright,
Standing vpon his ffeete;
He swore, as he was trew knight,
The spice was neuer soe svveete.

[52] ‘Well, cozen Gawaine,’ sayes Sir Kay,
Thy chance is fallen arright,
For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids,
I euer saw with my sight.’

[53] ‘It is my fortune,’ said Sir Gawaine;
For my vncle Arthurs sake
I am glad as grasse wold be of raine,
Great ioy that I may take.’

[54] Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme,
them, Sir Kay tooke her by the tother,
They led her straight to King Arthur,
As they were brother and brother.

[55] King Arthur welcomed them there all,
And soe did Lady Geneuer his queene,
With all the knights of the Round Table,
Most seemly to be seene.

[56] King Arthur beheld that lady faire
That was soe faire and bright,
He thanked Christ in Trinity
For Sir Gawame, that gentle knight.

[57] Soe did the knights, both more and lesse,
All the knights rejoice. Rejoyced all that day
For the good chance that happened was
To Sir Gawaine and his lady gay.

In his Dissertation on romance and minstrelsy, Joseph Ritson reviews Percy’s publication of the Dame Ragnell poem and compares versions that appear in the 1775 and 1795 editions of Reliques of Ancient English Poetry.

In “Dissertation on romance and minstrelsy”, Ritson, 1891

https://archive.org/details/cu31924013358050/page/n59/mode/2up?q=gaWayne A dissertation on romance and minstrelsy by Ritson, Joseph, 1752-1803; Chrétien, de Troyes, 12th cent

Publication date 1891

p57-70

Several metrical romances, according to Bishop Percy’s account, are extant in his lordship’s celebrated folio manuscript, many of which are not to be now found in print; amongst these are the following:— Sir Cauline, John the Reve, Guy and Colbronde, Libeaux Disconius (a different copy from the one here printed), King Arthur and the King of Cornwall, Sir Lionel, The Greene Knight, The Earl of Carlisle, Sir Lambwell, Merline, King Arthur’s Death, The Legend of King Arthur, The Legend of Sir Guy, Eger and Grime, and many songs and ballads. The MS. (compiled by Thomas Blount, author of The Law-Dictionary, etc., about the middle of the seventeenth century), as we are told by the right reverend prelate, [The "advertisement" is signed "Thomas Percy, fellow of St. John's College, Oxford," his lordship's nephew, whom the late Mister Steevens assured the present editor to have never seen a word of it.] is a long narrow volume, containing igi sonnets, ballads, historical songs, and metrical romances, either in the whole or in part, for many of them are extremely mutilated and imperfect.

“The first and last leaves,” he says, “are wanting; and of 54 pages near the beginning half of every leaf hath been torn away, and several others are injured towards the end; besides that through a great part of the volume the top or bottom line, and sometimes both, have been cut off in the binding.” … The transcripts moreover “are sometimes extremely incorrect and faulty, being in such instances probably made from defective copies, or the imperfect recitation of illiterate fingers, so that a considerable portion of the song or narrative is sometimes omitted, and miserable trash or nonsense not unfrequently introduced into pieces of considerable merit:” the copyist, it seems, often growing “so weary of his labour as to write on without the least attention to the sense or meaning: so that the word which should form rhyme is found misplaced in the middle of the line; and we have such blunders as these, want and will for wanton will; even pan and wale for wan and pale, etc., etc.” Certainly this is a most extraordinary, as well as unfortunate, book, and the labour of the right reverend editor in correcting, refining, improving, completing, and enlarging the orthography, grammar, text, style, and supplying the chasms and hiatuses, valdè deflenda! must have equalled that of Hercules in cleansing the Augean stable: so that a parcel of old rags and tatters were thus ingeniously and haply converted into an elegant new suit.

The existence and authenticity of this famous MS. in its present mutilated and miserable condition is no longer to be denied or disputed; at the same time, it is a certain and positive fact, that, in the elegant and refined work it gave occasion to, there is scarcely one single poem, song, or ballad, fairly or honestly printed, either from the above fragment or other alleged authorities, from the beginning to the end; many pieces, also, being inserted, as ancient and authentic, which there is every reason to believe never existed before its publication. To correct the obvious errors of an illiterate transcriber, to supply irremediable defects, and to make sense of nonsense, are certainly essential duties of an editor of ancient poetry, provided he act with integrity and publicity; but secretly to suppress the original text, and insert his own fabrications for the sake of providing more refined entertainment for readers of taste and genius, is no proof of either judgment, candour, or integrity.

In what manner this ingenious editor conducted himself in this patched-up publication will be evident from the following parallel, which may be useful to future manufacturers in this line:—

The Marriage of Sir Gawaine. [The lines or words marked with elevated commas are substitutions in place of the old readings. The whole in italics is his own.]

The original (printed in large type) from Reliques, edition 1795, iii., 350. The improvement (printed in small type [TH: Courier font]) from Reliques, edition 1775, iii., 11.

“King Arthur lives in merry Carleile,
And seemely is to see;
And there he hath with him queen Genever,
That bride so bright of blee.

King Arthur lives in merry Carleile,
And seemely is to see;
And there " with him queene Guenever,
That bride so bright of blee.

And there he hath with him queen Genever,
That bride so bright in bower,
And all his barons about him stoode.
That were both stiffe and stowre.

And there "with him queene Guenever,
That bride so bright in bowre;
And all his barons about him stoode
That were both stiffe and stowre.

The king kept a royall Christmasse
Of mirth and great honor,
… when …

[About nine stanzas wanting].

The king "a royale Christmasse kept,"
"With" mirth and "princelye cheare,"
To him repaired many a knighte,
That came bothfarre and neare.

And when they were to dinner sette,
And cups went freely round;
Before them came a f aire damselle.
And knelt upon the ground.

A boone, a boone, O kinge Arthure,
I beg a boone of thee;
Avenge me of a carlish knighte,
Who hath shent my love and mee.

At Tearne-Wadling his castle stands,
Near to that lake so fair,
And proudlye rise the battlements.
And streamers deck the air.

Noe gentle knighte, nor ladye gay,
May passe that castle-walle;
But from thatfoule discourteous knighte
Mishappe will them befalle.

Hee’s twyce the size of common men,
Wi’ thewes, and sinewes strange.
And on his backe he bears a clubbe
That is both thicke and longe.

This grimme barbne ‘twas our hard happe,
But yester morne to see;
Went to his bowre he bare my love,
And sore misused mee.

And when I told him, king Arthùre,
As lyttle shold him spare;
Goe tell, sayd hee, that cuckold kinge,
To meete mee if he dare.

Upp then steyted king Arthùre
And swave by hille and dale.
He ne’er wolde quitt that grimme baròne,
Till he had made him quail.

Go fetch my sword Excalibar;
Goe saddle mee my steede;
Now, by my faye, that grimme baròne
Shall rue this ruthfulle deede.

And when he came to Tearne Wadlinge,
Benethe the castle walk:
Come forth! come forth! thou provide baròne
Or yielde thyself my thralle.

On magicke grounde that castle stoode,
And fenced with many a spelle:
Noe valiant knighte could tread theron,
But straite his courage felle.

Forth then rush’d that carlish knight,
King Arthur felte the charme,
His sturdy sinewes lost their strengthe,
Downe sunke his feeble arme.

Nowe yield thee, yield thee, king Arthùre, Now yield thee, unto mee.
Or fighte with mee, or lose thy lande,
No better termes maye bee.

Unlesse thou sweare upon the rood,
And promise on thy faye,
Here to returne to Tearne Wadling,
Upon the new-yeare’s daye;

And bring me word what thing it is
That? a woman most desire.
This shal be thy ransome Arthur, he sayes,
For He have noe other hier.

And bring me worde what thing it is, "All" women moste desyre;
This "is" thy ransome, Arthur, he sayes, He have noe other hyre.

King Arthur then held up his hand
According thene as was the law.
He tooke his leave of the baron there
And homword can he draw.

King Arthur then held up his hande,
"And sware upon his faye,"
"Then" tooke his leave of the "grimme barone,"
And "faste hee rode awaye."

And when he came to merry Carlile,
To his chamber he is gone,
And ther cam to him his cozen, Sir Gawaine,
As he did make his mone.

And there came to him his cozen, Sir Gawaine,
That was a curteous knight,
Why sigh you soe sore unckle Arthur, he said,
Or who hath done thee unright?

O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine,
That faire may thee befall;
For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe.
Thou wold not mervaille att all.

For when I came to Tearne Wadling,
A bold barren there I fand,
With a great club upon his backe
Standing stiffe and strong.

And he asked me wether I wold fight,
Or from him I shold be gone,
O[r] else I must him a ransome pay,
And soe depart him from.

To fight with him I saw noe cause,
Me thought it was not meet.
For he was stiffe and strong with all,
His strokes were nothing sweete.

Therfor this is my ransome Gawaine,
I ought to him to pay,
I must come againe as I am sworne,
Upon the new yeers day.

And he rode east, and he rode west,
And did of all inquyre.
What thing it is all women crave.
And what they most desyre.

And I must bring him word what thing it is
[About nine stanzas wanting].

Some told him riches, pompe, or state.
Some rayment fine and brighte;
Some told him mirthe, some flatterye;
And some a jollye knight.

Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde,
In one so rich array.
Toward the foresaid Tearne Wadling, That he might keepe his day.

In letters all king Arthur wrote.
And sealed them with his ringe;
But still his mind was helde in doubt,
Each told a different thinge.

And as he rode over a more,
Hee see a lady where shee sate,
Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen,
She was cladd in red Scarlett.

"As ruthfulle" he rode over a more, He "saw" a ladye "sette,"
"Betweene an oke, and a greene "holléye," "All " clad in red scarlette.

Then there as shold have stood her mouth,
Then there was sett her eye;
The other was in her forehead fast,
The way that she might see.

Her nose was crookt and turnd outward;
Her "chin" stood "all" awrye;
"And where" as sholde have "been" her mouthe,
"Lo"! there was set her eye.

Her nose was crooked and turned outward
Her mouth stood foule awry,
A worse formed lady then shee was,
Never man saw with his eye.

Her haires, like serpents, clung aboute,
Her cheekes' of deadlye hewe:
A worse-formed lady than she was,
No man “mote ever viewe.”

To halch upon him, king Arthur,
The lady was full faine;
But king Arthur had forgott his lesson,
What he should say againe.

To "haile the king in seemelye sorte,"
"This" ladye was fulle faine;
But king Arthure "at fore amaz'd,"
"No aunswere made" againe.

What knight art thou, the lady sayd,
That wilt not speake to me?
Of me thou nothing [be] dismayed
Tho I be ugly to see.

What "wight" art thou, the ladye sayd.
That wilt not speake to mee;
"Sir, I may chance to ease thy paine,"
Though I be "foule" to see.

For I have halched you courteouslye.
And you will not me againe,
Yett I may happen, sir knight, shee said,
To ease thee of thy paine.

Give thou ease me, lady, he said,
Or helpe me anything.
Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen,
And many him with a ring.

"If" thou (wilt) ease "my paine," he sayd,
"And" helpe me "in my neede";
"Ask what " thou wilt, thou grimme ladye,
And it shall be thy meede.

Why if I helpe thee not, thou noble king Arthur,
Of thy owne hearts desiringe,
Of gentle Gawaine ….
[About nine stanzas wanting].

O sweare mee this upon the roode,
And promise on thy faye;
And here the secrette I will telle,
That shall thy ransome paye.

King Arthur promised on his faye,
And sware upon the roode;
The secrette then the ladye told, As lightlye well she cou’de.

Now this shall be my paye, sir king.
And this my guerdon bee,
That some yong, fair, and courtlye knighte,
Thou bringe to marrye mee.

Fast then pricked king Arthùre,
Ore hille, and dale, and downe;
And soone he founde the barone’s bowre;
And soone the grimme baròune.

And when he came to Teame Wadling
The baron there cold he frinde (finde),
With a great weapon on his backe,
Standing stiffe and stronge.

“He bare his clubbe” upon his backe,
“He stood bothe” stiffe and stronge;
“And when he had the letters reade
“Awaye” the lettres flunge.”

And then he tooke king Arthurs letters in his hands,
And away he cold them fling;
And then he puld out a good browne sword,
And cryd himself a King.

And he sayd, I have thee and thy land, Arthur,
To doe as it pleaseth mee;
For this is not thy ransome sure
Therfore yeeld thee to mee.

“Nowe yielde” thee, Arthur, and thy “lands,”
“All forfeit upto mee”;
For this is not thy “paye, sir king.
Nor many thy ransome bee.”

And then bespoke him, noble Arthur,
And bad him hold his hands;
And give me leave to speak my mind
In defence of all my land.

"Yet hold thy hand, thou proude barbne,"
"I pray thee" hold "thy" hand;
And give me leave to speak "once moe"
In "reskewe" of my land.

‘He’ said as I came over a more,
I see a lady where she Sate,
Betweene an oke and a green hollen,
She was clad in red scarlette.

"This morne," as I came over a more,
I "saw" a ladye "sette"
Between an oke, and a greene hollèye, "All" clad in red scarlette.

And she says a woman will have her will,
And this is all her chief desire,
Doe me right as thou art a baron of sckill,
This is thy ransome and all thy hyer.

She sayes "all women" will have "their" wille,
This is "their" chief desyre;
"Now yield," as thou art a barone "true,"
"That I have payd mine hyre."

He sayes, an early vengence light on her,
She walkes on yonder more.
It was my sister that told thee this,
She is a mishappen hore.

An earlye vengeaunce light on her! "The carlish baron swore;"
"Shee" was my sister tolde the this, And "shee's" a mishapen whore.

But heer Ile make mine avow to god,
To do her an evill turne;
For an ever I may thate fowle theefe ge[t].
In a fyer I will her burne.
[About nine stanzas wanting.]

But here I will make mine avowe. To do her "as ill a" turne,
For an ever I may that foule theefe gette.
In a fyre I will her burne.

PART THE SECOND.

Homewarde pricked king Arthure,
And a wearye man was he;
And soon he met queene Guenever,
That bride so bright of blee.

What newes! what newes! thou noble king,
Howe, Arthur, hast thou sped?
Where hast thou hung the carlish knighte? And where bestow’d his head?

The carlish knight is safe for mee.
And free fro mortal harme;
On magicke grounde his castle stands,
And fenc’d with many a charme.

To bowe to him I was fulle faine,
And yielde mee to his hand;
And but for a lothly ladye, there,
I sholde have lost my land.

And nowe this fills my hearte with woe,
And sorrowe of my life;
I swore a yonge and courtlye knight
Sholde marry her to his wife.

Then bespake him sir Gawaine,
That was ever a gentle knighte;
That lothly ladye I will wed;
Therefore be merrye and lighte.

Nowe naye, nowe naye, good sir Gawaine;
My sisters sonne yee bee;
This lothlye ladye’s all to grimme,
And all too foule for yee.

Her nose is crookt and tum’d outwàrde;
Her chin stands all awrye;
A worse formed ladye than she is.
Was never seen with eye.

What though her chin stand all awrye,
And shee be foule to see,
I’ll marry her, unkle, for thy sake,
And I’ll thy ransome bee.

Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine,
And a blessing thee betyde,
Tomorrow wee’ll have knights and squires,
And wee’ll go fetch thy bride.

And wee’ll have hawkes and wee’ll have houndes.
To cover our intent;
And wee’ll away to the greene forest.
As wee a hunting went.

Sir Lancelot and Sir Steven bold,
They rode with them that day,
And the formost of the company
There rode the steward Kay.

Sir Lancelot, Sir Stephen bolde.
They rode with them that daye;
And foremost of the companye.
There rode the stewarde Kaye.

Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore,
Sir Garrett with them soe gay,
Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight,
To the forrest fresh and gay.

Soe did sir Banier and sir Bore
"And eke sir Garratte keene";
Sir Tristram "too" that gentle knight,
To the forest freshe and "greene."

And when he came to the green forest,
Underneath a green holly tree,
There sate a lady in red scarlett
That unseemly was to see.

And when "they" came to the greene forrest
Beneathe a "faire" holley tree, There sate that ladye in red scarlette,
That unseemelye was to see.

Sir Kay beheld this ladyes face.
And looked upon her suire;
Whosoever kisses this lady, he sayes,
Of his kisse he stands in feare.

Sir Kay beheld "that" lady's face,
And looked upon her sweere;
Whoever kisses "that" ladye, he sayes.
Of his kisse he stands in feere.

Sir Kay beheld the lady againe,
And looked upon her snout.
Whosoever kisses this lady, he saies,
Of his kisse he stands in doubt.

Sir Kay beheld "that" ladye againe, And looked upon her snout;
Whoever kisses "that" ladye, he sayes, Of his kisse he stands in doubt.

Peace, cozen Kay, then said Sir Gawaine
Amend thee of thy life;
For there is a knight amongst us all
That must marry her to his wife.

Peace, "brother" Kay, sayde Sir Gawaine,
And amend thee of thy life;
For there is a knight amongst us all,
Must marry her to his wife.

What wedd her to wiffe! then said Sir Kay,
In the divells name anon;
Get me a wiffe where-ere I may,
For I had rather be slaine.

What "marry this foule queene, quoth" Kay In "the devil's" name anone;
Get mee a wife wherever I maye,
In sooth she shall be none."

Then some tooke up their hawkes in haste,
And some tooke up their hounds,
And some sware they wold not marry her,
For citty nor for towne.

Then some took up their hawkes in haste,
And some took up their houndes;
And "sayd" they wolde not marry her,
For cities, nor for townes.

And then bespake him noble king Arthur,
And sware there by this day,
For a litle foule fight and misliking
(about nine stanzas wanting).

Then bespake him king Arthure,
And sware there by this daye;
For a little foule fight and mislikinge,
Yee shall not say her naye.

Peace, Lordings, peace, Sir Gawaine sayd;
Nor make debate and strife;
This lothlye ladye I will take,
And marry her to my wife.

Nowe thankes, nowe thankes, good sir Gawaine,
And a blessinge be thy meede!
For as I am thine owne ladyè,
Thou never shall rue this deede.

Then up they took that lothly dame,
And home anone they bringe;
And there Sir Gawaine he her wed,
And married her with a ringe.

And when they were in wed-bed laid,
And all were done awaye;
“Come turn to mee mine owne wed-lord,
Come turn to mee I praye.”

Sir Gawaine scant could lift his head,
For sorrowe and for care;
When, lo! instead of fliat lothelye dame,
Hee same a young ladye faire.

Sweet blushes stayned her rud-red cheeke.
Her eyen were blacke as sloe;
The ripening cherrye swellde her lippe,
And all her necke was snowe.

Sir Gawaine kissed that lady faire,
Lying upon the sheete;
And swore, as he was a true knighte,
The spice was never soe sweete.

Sir Gawaine kissed that lady bright,
Lying there by his side;
“The fairest flower is not soe faire;
Thou never canst bee my bride.”

I am thy bride, mine owne dear lorde,
The same which thou didst know,
That was so lothlye, and was wont
*Upon the wild more to goe.

Then shee said, choose thee, gentle Gawaine,
Truth as I doe say,
Wether thou wilt have (me) in this likenesse,
In the night or else in the day.

"Nowe, gentle Gawaine, chuse, quoth shee," "And make thy choice with care";
Whether "by night, or else by daye," "Shall I be foule or faire?"

And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
With one soe mild of moode,
Sayes, well I know what I wold say,
God grant it may be goode,

To have thee fowle [still] in the night,
When I with thee should playe,
Yet I had rather, if I might,
Have thee fowle in the day.

To have thee foule (still) in the night,
When I with thee should playe,
"I had rather — farre, my lady deare," (To) have the foule 'by' daye.

What when lords goe with ther feires, shee said,
Both to the ale and wine,
Alas! then I must hyde myself,
I must not go withinne.

What when "gaye ladyes" goe with their "lordes,"
To (drinke) the ale and wine;
Alas! then I must hide myself,
I must not go with "mine?"

And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Said, Lady thats but a skill,
And because thou are my owne lady,
Thou shalt have all thy will.

"My fair ladyè sir Gawaine sayd,"
"I yield me to thy" skille,
Because thou art mine owne ladyè,
Thou shalt have all thy wille.

Then she said, blessed be thou, gentle Gawaine,
This day that I thee see,
For as thou see me att this time,
From henceforth I wil bee.

"Now" bless'd be thou, "sweete" Gawaine,
(And) " the " day that I thee see;
For as thou seest me at this time, "Soe shall I ever bee."

My father was an old knight,
And yett it chanced soe,
That he marryed a younge lady,
That brought me to this woe.

My father was an "aged" knight,
And yet it chanced soe,
He "tooke to wife" a "false" ladyè,
"Whiche" broughte me to this woe.

Shee witched me, being a faire young lady,
To the greene forrest to dwell,
And there I must walke in womans liknesse. Most like a feeind of hell.

Shee witched me, being a faire yonge "maide,"
"In" the greene forfest to dwelle; And there "to abide" in lothlye shape,
Most like a fiend of helle.

Midst mores and moses; woods and wilds,
To leade a lonesome life;
Till some yong faire and courtlye knight Wolde marreye me to his wife.

Nor fully to gains mine owne trewe shape, Such was her devilish skille,
Until he wolde yielde to be rul’d by mee, And let mee have all my wille.

She witched my brother to a carlish b ….
[About nine stanzas wanting.]

She witched my brother to a "carlish" boore,
And made him stiffe and strange;
And built him a bowre on magicke grounde,
To live by rapine and wronge.

But now the spelle is broken throughe,
And wronge is turnde to righte;
Henceforth I shall bee a faire ladye,
And he be a gentle knighte.

---

That looked soe foule and that was wont
On the wild more to goe.

Come kisse her, brother Kay, then said sir Gawaine,
And amend thee of thy life,
I sware this is the same lady
That I marryed to my wiffe.

Sir Kay kissed that lady bright,
Standing upon his feete:
He swore, as he was trew knight,
The spice was never soe sweete.

Well, cozen Gawaine, saies sir Kay,
Thy chance is fallen arright,
For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids,
I ever saw with my sight.

It is my fortune, said sir Gawaine,
For my unckle Arthurs sake:
I am as glad as grasse wold be of raine,
Great joy that I may take.

Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme,
Sir Kay tooke her by the tother;
They led her straight to King Arthur,
As they were brother and brother.

King Arthur welcomed them there all,
And soe did lady Genever his queene,
With all the knights of the rounde table,
Most seemly to be seene.

King Arthur beheld that lady faire,
That was soe faire and bright,
He thanked Christ in trinity
For Sir Gawaine that gentle knight.

Soe did the knights, both more or lesse,
Rejoyced all that day,
For the good chance that hapened was
To sir Gawaine and his lady gay.

This mode of publishing ancient poetry displays, it must be confessed, considerable talent and genius, but savours strongly, at the same time, of unfairness and dishonesty. Here are numerous stanzas inserted which are not in the original, and others omitted which are there. The purchasers and perusers of such a collection are deceived and imposed upon; the pleasure they receive is derived from the idea of antiquity, which, in fact, is perfect illusion.

If the ingenious editor had published all his imperfect poems by correcting the blunders of puerility or inattention, and supplying the defects of barbarian ignorance, with proper distinction of type (as, in one instance, he actually has done), it would not only have gratified the austerest antiquary, but also provided refined entertainment “for every reader of taste and genius.” He would have acted fairly and honorably, and given every sort of reader complete satisfaction. Authenticity would have been united with improvement, and all would have gone well; whereas, in the present editions, it is firmly believed, not one article has been ingeniously or faithfully printed from the beginning to the end; nor did the late eminent Thomas Tyrwhitt, so ardent a researcher into ancient poetry, and an intimate friend of the possessor, ever see this curious, though tattered, fragment, nor would the late excellent George Stevens, on the bishop’s personal application, consent to sanction the authenticity of the printed copy with his signature. [The Bishop of Dromore (as he now is), on a former occasion, having himself, as he well knows, already falsified and corrupted a modern Scottish song, "This line," he says, "being quoted from memory and given as old Scottish poetry, is (by no one, in such a case, except himself) now usually printed " (Reliques, 1775 I., xxxviii. [Scottish poetry, of the fifteenth or sixteenth century, has been so printed, but not that of the eighteenth, unless by impostors.]) "Come ye frae the border?" to give it a certain appearance of rust and antiquity. This identical song being afterward, faithfully and correctly printed in a certain collection of such things, from the earliest copy known, which, like all the rest, was accurately referred to "Live you upo' the border?" (Scottish Songs printed for J. Johnson, 1794, i., 266), the worthy prelate thought proper, in the last edition of his already recited compilation, to assert that his own corruption "would have been readily corrected by that copy, had not all confidence been destroyed by its being altered in the Historical Essay, prefixed to that pubUcation to "'Ye Live upo' the border;' the better," he adds, with his usual candour, "to favour a position, that many of the pipers might live upon the borders, for the conveniency of attending fairs, etc., in both kingdoms." This, however, is an infamous lye; it being much more likely that he himself, who has practised every kind of forgery and imposture, had some such end to alter this identical line, with much more violence, and, as he owns himself, actual "corruption," to give the quotation an air of antiquity, which it was not entitled to. The present editor's text is perfectly accurate, to a single comma, but, "this line," as he pretends to apologise for his own, "being quoted (in the Essay) from memory," having frequently heard it so sung, in his younger days, by a north country blacksmith without thinking it necessary, at the moment, to turn to the genuine text, which lay at his elbow, and which his lordship dare not impeach. "Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see (more) clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye" (Gospel according to St. Matthew, chap, vii., verse 5).]

This set of notes is still very much a work in progress, with several more notes to follow…